


Sway Me Now

by Thoughts Like A Minefield (Incog_Ninja)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, Flashbacks, Fluff, Smut, babymaking in a hammock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-24
Updated: 2020-04-24
Packaged: 2021-03-01 20:06:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,261
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23822788
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Incog_Ninja/pseuds/Thoughts%20Like%20A%20Minefield
Summary: We started to write our lifelong love letter well before the world went inside. We are not perfect, and we learned from our mistakes. This is our story of how we chose each other and became one another’s other half for life.
Relationships: Dean Winchester/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 16





	Sway Me Now

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MsKathy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MsKathy/gifts).



> AU Dean Winchester x OFC Jennifer Rivera
> 
> this is an answer to a picspiration prompt from my bestie @mskathy and serves as a teaser for a full-length series I will be posting on Patreon, starting this weekend!
> 
> Many thanks to my girl @marksmanfem for the ideas and support and cheering me on bc YES I CAN write fluff!

I met Dean what feels like a lifetime ago.

I had just moved to the valley and endured a crash-course in small, mountain town living when he waltzed into an event I had produced for a local nonprofit.

God, he was beautiful — tall, freckles dusting his perfect nose and cheeks, broad-shoulders, a smile like sunshine — and the small redheaded girl he had on his arm was sunshine, too, but in a different way.

“Jenn?” she asked, practically bouncing on the balls of her feet.

I was taken aback for a moment, starting to adrenaline-drop after the launch of my first event in Aspen. Part of me wanted to hide in the green room and eat my cold dinner in peace, but _something_ made me want to stay.

“Uhh, yeah,” I answered, slowly standing then smoothing my palms across my hips before extending my hand to the girl. “I’m Jenn Rivera.”

The girl sighed with relief and grabbed my hand, shaking it buoyantly. “Charlie,” she said with a bright, white smile.

Her little nose crinkle was so endearing.

“Oh, awesome, thanks for being here,” I said as I dragged my gaze up to her counterpart.

He was looking down at her like she was the sun, the moon, and the stars. It was so sweet. A small, quiet smile played on his lips as she continued.

“I’m sorry I’m late,” she said, her eyes darting around the registration table like she wanted to jump right into her volunteer post. “I had a little accident.”

She waved toward her feet and I noticed then that her ankle was wrapped with a bandage.

“Oh, no,” I said, backing up to take a better look. “What happened?”

“I’m a klutz,” she said with a roll of her eyes and self-deprecating grin. Then she looked up at the big, calm man next to her. “Good thing Dean was there to patch me up.”

Dean continued to grin down at her as he brushed her bangs across her forehead before facing me.

With his full gaze on me, I felt like the wind had been knocked out of me. Up close, his eyes were stunning — bright, warm, and self-effacing with a side of playfulness that I had never seen in such a mix.

“Hi,” he said, extending his own hand. “Dean Winchester, Charlie’s brother.”

When I took his hand then, I never looked back.

Work-worn fingers wrapped my hand and gently squeezed.

“Hi,” I replied, slowly shaking his hand.

There was, what felt to me like, a long, dreamy moment where I was just holding this gorgeous, inviting man’s hand in mine. If we’d been in a RomCom, I’d have said time-stopped.

It really felt like it had.

“So, uhh…” Charlie interjected. When I finally dragged my attention back to her, reluctantly pulling my hand from her brother’s, there was an impish, little smirk twisting her ruby lips.

I grew to get used to that look over the next five years.

Dean and I began dating two weeks later. One year after that, we got engaged. During our nine-month engagement, we bought a ranch just outside of town.

In the first three years of our marriage, we worked hard to establish our careers. We worked harder on us. We moved my family to Colorado from Puerto Rico, and we decided to start a new family unit of our own.

“Hey.” My voice was naturally quiet and relaxed after a day off from work. We had both decided to turn off our phones, pack a lunch, load up the dogs and head out for a long hike.

Dean had taken a sunshower first and he was swaying gently in the hammock on the deck when I found him, nude and glistening in the light from the setting sun.

His eyes fluttered open. The light peeked through the leaves of the Aspens and streaked his freckled cheeks and nose and shot gold through the jade of his eyes.

“Hey,” he answered, reaching for my hand with a lazy smile.

He tugged and I followed, rolling naked into the hammock with him. Dean smacked and grabbed at my ass, and I giggled, as he maneuvered me until we were cozy — naked and warm inside our little cocoon.

And Dean was hard — so blessedly hard.

I groaned, realizing that I had absolutely no leverage the way I was slumped across him with the unbalance of the swinging hammock to boot.

“We can’t fuck in the hammock, babe,” I said, as Dean’s fingers progressed downward along my spine, the arch of my back, and my tailbone before running down the dip between my ass cheeks. 

“Hmm,” he grunted, teasing the soft skin where the curve meets the top of my thigh. “Sure ‘bout that? Perfect timing.”

“It doesn’t seem…” I paused, feeling my skin heat from his implication. I had told him that morning that I was ovulating. “…safe?”

Dean chuckles and hugged me tight, further molding me to his side. “Don’t worry your pretty little head,” he murmured, pressing his lips to my temple. “I gotchu.”

He tossed me that sly grin before hooking his elbow under my neck. My belly flipped every time he looked at me that way — with hunger, devotion, need — no matter how many hundreds of times he’d done it.

He dragged his hand from my cheek, over my jaw, and alongside my neck — pausing to gently brush his thumb over the hollow of my throat and his lips along the bridge of my nose. Then he moved again, his fingertips skimming my collarbones then down between my breasts. His knuckles were rough and soothing, and his thumb slid along the seam of my abs downward until he was cupping my cunt.

“I love how big your hands are on me,” I murmured.

I said that a lot to him.

Dean made me feel small and safe in a way I never knew could be good.

His hands look clumsy at first sight, but Dean was good at everything he did with them; he was competent with a tool, a safe haven for injured people and animals in the wild, and he set me on fire with the slightest swipe of a broad fingertip.

That one fingertip circled slowly at my entrance, and the heavy, warm heel of his palm rested on my clit. He inhaled deeply and pressed his forehead to mine, and I let my neck relax, let my eyes close, let my hips open like a flower for him.

“That’s right,” he urged, pushing that finger all the way inside, calm and steady. “Open up for me.”

He pressed his lips to mine and Eskimo kissed my nose. He swallowed my moans as he pushed a second finger inside me, grinding his palm over the top of my cunt, dragging and tugging the thin, tender skin, all those nerves, moving my clit so deliberately.

I reached down to put more pressure or speed behind it, but he was too quick. His free hand snatched my wrist before I got there, jostling me a little and making the hammock sway more wildly.

“Ah-ah-ah,” he hummed.

I tried to protest, but then he rolled me under him.

“Let me,” he said, capturing both of my hands and anchoring them in place above my head with one of his.

Our legs were twisted together and our skin slid in time with the swinging of the hammock.

Dean got his hand back between my legs and his mouth on my skin as he nudged my knees to open wide.

“Tell me what you want,” he said, kissing my neck and collarbone. “You don’t have to do it yourself, tell me.”

I knew this, of course. I knew Dean could and would give me what I wanted and what I needed, but sometimes I forgot how to use my words.

“I…” I whimpered and ground into his hand. “Just you.”

“Just me?” he asked, teasing. “What about me? Your pussy’s likin’ my fingers, I can feel that much.”

“Dean,” I whined.

I hated to whine. I had never let myself be so wanton with anyone else, but with him it just felt so sexy, to be at his mercy, to be _his_.

“You want me,” he said, his eyes dancing over my surely desperate expression. “But what’s that hungry pussy want, princess?”

“Dean… don’t…” I squirmed, trying to create friction where I wanted it, but he held me open wide, slipping two fingers in and out of me.

He grinned. “Don’t make you say it? Why not?” He dropped his mouth close to my ear. “Maybe I wanna hear my girl tell me how bad she wants my dick.”

”Shit,” I whispered and closed my eyes. I had to be soaking the fabric of the hammock at that point

“Maybe,” he continued, his hand fucking me so excruciatingly slow I wanted to scream. “Maybe I want my wife to tell me how bad she wants me to put a baby in her.”

“Oh, God,” I moaned, loud.

Dean was always handsy and talkative during sex but bringing up making a baby set off something primal inside me. I was out of my mind. His words alone put me right at the edge.

“Hmm.” Dean doubled down with his palm over my clit, radiating heated vibrations to every extremity of my body. When he curled his fingers and graciously changed pace and angle, I was coming within seconds.

“Fuck,” I gasped, rigid and shaking.

“Good girl,” Dean whispered as he released my wrists.

He cupped my jaw with one big hand, fingers sliding into my damp hair as his mouth melded with mine for a lengthy, heated kiss with plenty of teeth and tongue.

“Fuck, my wife is hot.”

He shifted his body and mine until I was face-down and he was straddling my thighs with one foot planted on the wooden planks of the deck and the other tucked alongside my thigh, keeping me in place.

I curled my fingers into my palms and arched my back to give him better access.

“Breathe, honey.”

Dean’s voice made everyone I know feel safe and cared for. It made him perfect for his job as a police officer and a first responder in the backcountry. That voice could make a wild animal tame inside 30-seconds. That voice had talked more than one person at risk down from the proverbial ledge.

I sighed as he placed one hand on the curve of my back, using his other hand to guide himself to my entrance.

“God, you’re hard,” I gasped, biting my lip as he split me open.

He grunted in appreciation as he worked his way inside. “Just thinking about you round and full of my kid — our kid — fuckin’ makes me crazy.”

My body started to shake at the images ricocheting through my mind — my man, hunting and gathering for me and our family, building a fire, keeping watch at night.

The sounds he made as he fucked into me were so obscene and they coaxed epic levels of pleasure from me. His hands ran the length of my spine and back down again, spread across my hips, and gripped me. He fucked me so slow and measured, and with so much intent.

“I love you,” he breathed. “Tell me you love me.”

No matter how kinky or rough we got, Dean always wanted to hear those three little words.

“I love you, baby,” I replied, feeling tears prick my eyes. I reached back to touch him anywhere I could.

He arched over me and braced one hand on the wooden pillar holding the hammock in place, then pushed my hair from my face to find my mouth with his.

“So much,” he muttered between kisses. “Thank you.”

“Thank you,” I whispered, my voice thick and heavy. “Dean, please.”

“Oh, fuck,” he groaned, breathing in and out of me. “Come with me. Please. I need you.”

I arched my back and felt the base of his cock stretching me so well and the curve sliding against my g-spot. He was so deep, and I couldn’t take anymore.

I felt him throbbing when I came again as he filled me up, warm and safe.

~~~~~~~

I was curled under a blanket when Dean waltzed back out onto the deck. He was wearing his favorite sweatpants and carrying a t-shirt for me, a washcloth and a couple of beers.

“Comfy?” he asked with a satisfied smirk as he sat on the edge of the hammock and shrugged into the shirt.

“Well, my husband just fucked me stupid and is now handing me a cold beer, so I’m pretty good.”

Dean chuckled, kneeling at my feet, lifting and kissing the arch of each before setting about cleaning me up with the washcloth.

“What about Celeste if it’s a girl?” he asked, folding the washcloth and setting it aside.

“Aww, Charlie,” I cooed. “I love her name and miss her face.”

Charlie was in the Peace Corp with her girlfriend. We had Skype calls once a week, but it wasn’t the same as seeing her in person.

Dean carefully climbed back into the hammock with me, slotting behind me and tucking a fleece blanket around us. I was wrapped in his arms so we could spoon and watch the sunset.

“I love you.” I kissed the forearm holding me tight.

“Love you, too, princess,” he replied.

And we watched in the peaceful quiet of the crisp late-summer evening as the sun slowly dropped behind the ridge.


End file.
